


Morning After

by Ephemera_pop (Alex_Draven)



Category: Popslash
Genre: Dogs, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-27
Updated: 2005-09-27
Packaged: 2018-10-16 20:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10579203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Draven/pseuds/Ephemera_pop
Summary: One of the things JC really liked about Lance’s place was that the bedroom had shutters instead of curtains so it stayed cool and dark for as long as he wanted to sleep in. And he wanted to sleep in today. The celebrations for finally wrapping up the video for the first single had run till dawn, and the only reason he wasn’t hurting more was because Lance was a god and had not only forced water and painkillers on him before he left, but had left a jug of ice and more pills on the bedside table.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For [ a fic_request](http://www.livejournal.com/community/fic_requests/118623.html) for </a></b></a>[](http://ravenbat.livejournal.com/profile)[ **ravenbat**](http://ravenbat.livejournal.com/)

One of the things JC really liked about Lance’s place was that the bedroom had shutters instead of curtains so it stayed cool and dark for as long as he wanted to sleep in. And he wanted to sleep in today. The celebrations for finally wrapping up the video for the first single had run till dawn, and the only reason he wasn’t hurting more was because Lance was a god and had not only forced water and painkillers on him before he left, but had left a jug of ice and more pills on the bedside table.

Lance? Was a god. Totally and completely. He’d even put lemon juice in the ice so it melted into something that tasted good.

JC stretched under the light cotton sheet and tucked his fingers behind the mattress before twisting to work some of the kinks out of his back. Maybe a shower and some breakfast? No. Coffee, then shower, and then maybe he’d hit the pool, play with the dogs in the garden, generally relax until Lance came home to be thanked … everyone kept telling him he deserved a few days off before the promo kicked in.

He sat up cautiously, and then braved a smile when his head didn’t just roll of his shoulders and shatter. Totally a god amongst men. Tucking a towel around his waist, JC padded barefoot down to the kitchen. When he rubbed scratchy finger tips over his eyes the clock came into focus. Dude. Three twenty seven. The stuff in the filter would be rank after stewing all day, for sure.

He pottered on autopilot, emptying the filter, and setting up a fresh batch, wandering into the pantry for supplies, and cracking open the back door to get some fresh air in. He could hear the clock ticking, the fridge compressor clicking on, the coffee burbling. Something was nagging at the back of his mind as out of place. It wasn’t until he opening the fridge for cream and a couple of mouthfuls of fruit salad that it clicked. No dogs. Normally humans in the kitchen meant enthusiastic puppies wriggling and yapping and demanding attention, and opening the fridge meant whining and begging and paws scrabbling at your waist and …

He called the puppies, and listened to the resulting silence. He checked the small downstairs room Lance had designated their kennel, milk carton still in hand, but the door was open and there were definitely no dogs there. Standing on the shaded patio and calling them produced similar results, as did a return trip to the pantry to fill their bowls with dry food, which rattled satisfactorily. JC was starting to worry.

Swallowing a scalding mouthful of coffee he thought hard. It was definitely Thursday, and the schedule on the whiteboard on the fridge showed Lance’s all-day meeting, but no mention of dog walkers or a vets visit or anything else, and normally Lance was super-good about keeping track of stuff like that. He remembered Lance nudging him awake, and kissing his forehead and pressing a sports bottle into his hand, and talking to him while JC sipped the water. He was pretty sure it had mostly been ‘poor baby’ and ‘you’ll feel better’, and ‘see you later, ‘kay?’. He also remembered a cold damp nose nudging at his face, which had half woken him, and the click of claws on the stairs, and … oh shit. He wouldn’t have let the dogs out and gone back to bed. He wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not and forgotten it totally, but there were manifestly no dogs in the house, and … the coffee felt acid in his stomach and there was a headache scratching at the edge of his temples.

Pounding up stairs didn’t make his head any happier, and he couldn’t help noticing as he pulled on worn jeans and one of Lance’s shirts that he was kind of sticky and gross, but he couldn’t shake the idea of two teenage puppies out roaming the roads of Lance’s development and getting hit by cars or into fights with rabid pitbulls or falling down canyons or getting out of the community and running onto the freeway or any one of a hundred other horrible ends. He was desperately fending off the mental image of Lance’s face crumbling into hurt and loss by furiously making plans of where the pups could be hiding and where to look first.

Loading up his pockets with jerky and biscuits, keys and phone, JC headed out into the dry heat of a quiet afternoon. He felt like such a dork, calling and calling, and it wasn’t like the puppies were real reliable about coming when called at the best of times, but what else could he do? He walked four units each side, starting to sweat with all the things his mind was throwing at him, and then came back to the house for his car, thinking to cover the ground a bit quicker. His flip-flops slipped on the pedals, and he kicked them off to work the clutch barefoot, reversing out of Lance’s driveway and kerb crawling up the hill, calling out of the window and scanning the lush banks of shrubbery for any sign of motion.

The sharp honk of a horn behind him made him jump. He hit the brake automatically, his hand flying to his chest. Fuck, but he was nervy. The sight of Lance’s car in his rear view mirror and Lance waving as he slammed the door and started walking up didn’t help his heart-rate any either. Probably killing your lover’s puppies – not a short cut to zen and relaxation.

“’C, babe, what are you doing?” Lance greeted him though the rolled-down window, and then ducked his head to lean in and brush a dry kiss on JC’s cheek. JC had never felt worse in his life.

“Um. Well. The thing is. Um.”

“Are you ok?” Lance asked after another moment. “You’re being spectacularly spazzy.”

“Yeah, sorry. Look…”

A horn blared behind them, startling them both. Lance jerked back, and glared at his car.

“Fuck – hang on a minute.” And then he was gone. The road behind him was empty, and JC had a single brief moment of total panic when he thought he was going to have to explain that he’d accidentally slaughtered Lance’s dogs with some pissy impatient contact looking on, before Lance yanked his car door open, and a blur of bad mannered puppies spilled out, haring up the driveway towards the house. The rush of relief was almost physical.

He slipped the car into gear and rolled gently back down to where Lance was herding the dogs into the yard. The cars could stay parked up on the road for five minutes. He ought to help corral the monsters, and then he really really needed to wrap his arms around that man, and make sure Lance was too distracted to ever ask what JC’d been doing all afternoon.


End file.
